James walked slowly through the fog, his footsteps heavy against the old wooden dock. He ran his fingers over the railing, making his way towards the gazebo. He paused, seeing a figure through the fog. He squinted his eyes, taking a few steps closer.

"Mary...?" he hesitantly called out.

He stopped a few feet in front of you, his gaze falling.

"You're not Mary," he sighed, "I'm sorry. You look like someone I've been looking for."